


Gotta Get Over Greta

by stuito55 (annabeth)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Anxiety, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Coming In Pants, Confused about sexuality, Crushes, Dreaming, Explicit Language, F/M, Guilty Conscience, M/M, No Ending, No idea where I was going with this, Pining, Pre-Slash, Somnophilia, never going to be finished, porny bits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 11:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10990404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/stuito55
Summary: Stuie and Nik share a bed; Nik likes it too much. (You can have a cliche! And you can! And you! I.E., the fic in which Nik gets snowed in at Stuie's house and the guest bed breaks [what? don't look at me like that].)





	Gotta Get Over Greta

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Gotta Get Over Greta" by The Nields. I got the original idea from that song, too.
> 
> I've been out of hockey fandom for awhile. These have been sitting in my Google Drive, and I'm never going to finish them, so I thought I'd post them to get them out of my hair. Expect 2 or 3 more of these.

_2008_

"This is Brad Stuart," Kenny says to Nik, and the blonde with the nice tan and nice smile holds out his hand. Nik doesn't know, then, that when he takes it, it will change everything about his life. "We brought him in to be your new defense partner."

"Hi," Stuart says, almost shyly, but with a quiet confidence that Nik wishes he had.

"Kronner," he returns with a smile of his own.

Brad Stuart's grip is nice and firm, and Nik's immediate impression is that everything about him is _nice_ , and so he's not prepared for what will come later. Stuart seems average, almost ordinary when they meet, but the moment their hands touch, Nik feels something he's never felt before.

And he doesn't know what it is.

_2009_

By the time they've been teammates almost a year, Nik's estimation of "average" has evolved into "hot-damn gorgeous" and he doesn't know what to do about it. It's not like he ever expected to wake up one day and find his defense partner attractive.

It causes some serious difficulty because by now, they are more than partners, they are best friends, and it's way too awkward to look at your best friend and think, _he's hot_. Nik can't figure out now, why when they first met, he didn't see it—but he sees it now, and it's uncomfortable.

Especially when Stuie comes over some nights for popcorn and a movie and they wind up leaning against each other on the couch. Nik has popped more than one awkward boner in these situations and he's just lucky Stuie has never noticed.

But it's the night that Nik gets snowed in at Stuie's house and the guest bed breaks that brings everything to a head.

"Do you want to share the bed?" Stuie asks, but Nik is already shaking his head; he'd known he would ask.

"No, the couch is fine," Nik says, shifting uncomfortably. He doesn't want to think about what might happen if he has to sleep next to his best friend.

But Stuie laughs and mock-punches him in the shoulder.

"We're friends, right?" Stuie says, heading into his bedroom. Nik hasn't really been in there a lot, really only two or three times, and it's always felt strange because the double bed is clearly big enough for two, yet Stuie's family lives in San José.

"I'd just… I'll feel weird about sleeping in your wife's place," Nik tries, to no avail.

"Don't worry about it. I bought the bed when I thought I was going to bring them out here. She's never actually slept in it, Kronner." Stuie rummages through a drawer and pulls out a pair of sweatpants. "Here, these might be too long, but they should fit otherwise. I hope. You can't sleep in your jeans."

Nik is _definitely_ not going to talk about the possibility of sleeping in his underwear, so he snags the sweatpants out of Stuie's fingers—startling him, it looks like—and locks himself in the guest bathroom down the hall.

He already knows Stuie's going to insist on sharing the bed, the least he can do is not share the bathroom with him. He can't imagine what it's going to be like, though. The bed isn't really big enough for two grown men to sleep in it with a proper amount of space between them—and Nik is truly terrified of what could happen if he gets too close to Stuie. What if he pops another unwanted boner? Worse, what if he wakes up with said possible-boner touching Stuie?

Stuie will probably think there isn't enough goodwill in the world to forgive Nik, for them to remain best friends.

He'd probably be lucky if Stuie didn't request a trade or, at the very least, a new defense partner.

Nik lets the waistband of the sweatpants slap against his belly, annoyed with the slight roundness to it. These shouldn't fit, because Stuie is much bigger than he is, both taller and with more muscle, but Nik's persistently rounded abs help keep the pants up.

He stares at himself in the mirror and tries to decide what to do. He almost doesn't want to come out of the bathroom. Maybe if he just stays in here Stuie will let the matter of them sharing a bed drop.

Yeah, right. Stuie would probably call the police to break down the door to check on him. Nik sighs. His eyes look tired, and his hair is getting too long, which causes him to realise he hasn't paid that much attention to his appearance in a mirror lately.

Stuie knocks on the door.

"I'm fine," Nik calls out, though he's not sure why he isn't just pretending to have climbed out the window or something.

Stuie laughs. "I'm sure you are," he says, "I just wanted to tell you there's a brand new toothbrush under the sink, if you wanted to brush your teeth."

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks," Nik says sheepishly. But even as he crouches down to find the toothbrush, he thinks, _It's like living here. Almost like having my own toothbrush here_. The thought is disconcerting, uncomfortable. Stuie probably wouldn't think it was strange, but the way that Nik thinks about Stuie now, living here would imply something very different to him.

He brushes his teeth almost violently, trying to forget those stupid thoughts that squirm around in his brain like poisonous snakes trying to get out. He has to keep a lid on this. Stuie cannot find out that Nik has a… a _crush_ , for fuck's sake, because he doesn't think their friendship would survive it, and these days it's knowing Stuie's out there, only a phone call or short drive away, that makes Nik happy.

It completes Nik, which is stupid and cheesy and so much like a fucking romantic comedy that Nik kinda wants to puke, but it's also true.

He finishes up with his teeth and very carefully rinses the toothbrush, then lays it gently on the sink. He rubs his fingers across his lips, a bit sticky and swollen from the toothbrushing, and wonders what Stuie's lips would look like.

Then he wants to shoot himself because, of course, that leads to an erection tenting out the front of his—Stuie's—sweatpants, and reminding Nik that this type of pants is the worst for hiding inconvenient evidence of arousal.

He contemplates jacking off into Stuie's toilet, but somehow that seems worse than just escaping the bathroom and trying to hide behind chairs and things. Like he would be doing something terrible to Stuie, even though it's not like Stuie isn't a guy and wouldn't understand the need for it.

Nik blows out a breath, disturbing his bangs. If Stuie were to jerk off at _his_ house, he'd probably be ecstatic—but Stuie's not him, and he's _married_ , Jesus. Obviously he's not into guys.

Nik hears footsteps and then Stuie's knocking on the door again.

"Okay, _are_ you all right? You've been in there a long time," Stuie says, muffled by the door.

Nik presses both hands against his groin, but it does nothing but increase the pressure against his hard-on, and is thus useless.

"I'll just… give me five minutes," Nik says weakly. "Can I use your shower?"

"Nik," Stuie says, "you're overthinking this. You don't need to take a shower to go to bed, holy crap. Just come out of the bathroom. I promise I don't bite." He pauses. "Unless you want me to," he adds, with a little laugh. Nik flushes. Of course this is all a joke to Stuie. He doesn't have the hard-on that proves his platonic feelings for his best friend are actually more than platonic.

"Yeah, of course you're right," Nik says. "I just shower at home. Sometimes." He's digging a lame hole for himself to fall into at this point. He pushes his dick down, but it doesn't do anything.

He blames his preoccupation with Stuie for not thinking of it earlier, but all at once he remembers those little tricks you used to use in school, and he closes his eyes and pictures Babs naked, about to come, and it works—almost too well. Nik likes Babs a lot, but he never, _ever_ , wants to see him naked, so his erection wilts and he unlocks the door.

Stuie is standing on the other side, grinning like a loon. "Jesus, I thought you were going to die in there. For what it's worth, if you need to pee in the middle of the night, you can use the master bathroom, you know."

"Right," Nik mutters, following Stuie down the hall. He feels naked without his jeans on. He's still got his undershirt on, but he's starting to feel sweaty and overheated just from the thought of getting into a bed next to Stuie, of sleeping next to Stuie.

Jesus, how is he ever going to get any sleep?

Stuie himself changed too, into a pair of pajama pants with little snowmen all over them, which, when Nik realises that's what they are, startles a laugh out of him. Stuie grins again.

"My wife bought them for me," he says by way of explanation, reminding Nik once again that sometimes, it seems like Stuie can read his mind. "She sent them along just before Christmas."

But the thing is, Stuie's not wearing a shirt. It's not like Nik hasn't seen him without a shirt, either, but this is different; getting into bed with him, without a shirt on and without a safe buffer of space between them, is going to be awkward as hell for Nik.

Still, he swallows down his anxiety and gestures to the bed, which is turned down on both sides.

"Should I—?"

"Go on," Stuie says, "I'm just going to put some socks on." He sits down on the other side of the bed, and begins pulling a sock on over his foot, which is arched slightly and Goddammit, but Nik never thought feet were particularly attractive before… but he seems to be in lust with _everything_ about Stuie, which fucking sucks.

He climbs into the bed and buries himself under the sheets and blankets until only his eyes and nose are poking out. He stares at Stuie's back, at the play of muscles as he finishes up with his socks, and his mouth goes dry.

Stuie stretches, arms locked above his head, which highlights the wings of his shoulderblades, and then he turns, shoving his feet beneath the covers and lying down on his back. Nik feels suddenly incredibly awkward about lying on his side facing Stuie, so he shifts, trying to roll over without really moving because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself or make the mattress move or really anything.

"Are your feet cold?" Stuie asks suddenly. "I didn't think to ask if you wanted socks."

"Uh, no," Nik mumbles. "My feet are fine." He's not wearing his own socks because he'd been wearing them for a few hours and didn't want to put his smelly socks into Stuie's clean bed. "Your wife has really never slept here? Hasn't she even come for visits?"

"Oh," Stuie says, sounding almost… disappointed? "She's visited a couple times, but she stayed at a hotel. Mostly I go out there, you know? It's easier, because otherwise she has to lug all the kids' stuff with her."

This reminds Nik that not only is Stuie married, but he has two baby boys and a stepdaughter and with a family like that, why would he need anything else, anyway? Even if he did want another guy.

Which of course he wouldn't.

Nik sighs again.

"You don't have to lie there like a wooden log," Stuie says. "I'm used to sleeping with someone else. I mean, my wife, obviously. Haven't you ever—?"

"N-no, not really," Nik replies. "My girlfriend… well, we only dated a short time. I did sleep in the same bed with my brother when we were little, I guess, but that was so long ago…"

"Oh." Stuie is quiet so long, and then he says, "Goodnight, Kronner." His breathing lengthens, and Nik is both surprised and jealous at how quickly, how easily Stuie drifts off.

Obviously he's not worried about sleeping in bed with another man, which is great for him—really—but for Nik this is almost impossible. How can he look at this as anything but really gay?

He'd never thought of himself as gay before, not really until he met Stuie, but now he can't shake that perception of himself. What if he's been like this all along?

Nik tries to imagine what it's like to be _actually_ gay, and whether he should consider himself gay now that he's lusting after Stuie. In fact, he spends so much time running over those same trails in his head that when he does finally fall asleep, he doesn't realise it's happened until he's waking up to warmth against his neck.

It takes a second or two before consciousness really winks back in, and Nik is aware that the warmth at his neck is Stuie's breath, and that Stuie's got one knee in between Nik's legs—and Nik is uncomfortably, embarrassingly hard against Stuie's upper thigh.

But before he can figure out a way to extricate himself, to possibly vault out of bed and maybe out the window while he's at it, Stuie is mumbling something against his ear.

"Hm," Stuie murmurs, followed by something that might be _baby_ , and "Is it okay if—"

Nik is absolutely going to die of mortification right here and now. It's painfully obvious that Stuie is dreaming of his wife, and that he's ever so slightly thrusting his hips as if whatever dream he's having is a good one—and Nik is just the unwelcome and unwilling substitute.

The problem is Nik wants it to be real. He wants to wake Stuie up and see those blue eyes blink and focus and hope that when Stuie realises who he's in bed with, he'll smile and lean forward and touch their lips together and… God, he's a sentimental fool, not to mention a hopeless one, to even think something like that could happen.

They're just sharing a bed, for Christ's sake. They're just _friends_ , and of course Stuie would think about his wife. He sees her so rarely, why wouldn't he be convinced by sleep that the body next to him belongs there? That Nik is _supposed_ to be there, even if, in reality, he's not?

He is taking her place, and he has no right to do it; even worse is the knowledge that he's a _terrible_ friend because he _wants_ to take her place, to kiss her husband.

Stuie moves a little, still muttering, warm damp breath feathering across Nik's skin. Nik's hard-on is unbearable. He wonders at what point Stuie will realise that his wife isn't supposed to have a hard cock, and will he wake up, and freak out?

But Stuie seems to be grinding his thigh up against and into Nik's aching erection, which is not helping matters. If Stuie's not careful—and how can he be, if he's sleeping?—he's going to bring Nik off in his pants.

In _Stuie's_ pants. Nik is literally going to keel over dead from the implications, right now.

Nik receives the shock of his life when Stuie moves, straightening his leg out and urging his hips forward and up, and his cock is hard.

Then, of course, Nik immediately chastises himself for being surprised by it—why shouldn't Stuie be turned on, if he's thinking about the things he could be doing with his wife?

And why should Nik want Stuie to be hard because of _him_?

Stuie makes a noise almost like relief when he rubs up against Nik's own arousal, which Nik finds strange and inexplicable. And then Stuie's hand, previously someplace where Nik didn't know where it was, is running up Nik's thigh and palming over his aching cock.

Nik shudders and lets out a noise of his own, then immediately goes stock-still and tries not to breathe.

Stuie doesn't wake up, though, and he doesn't do anything else with his hand beyond leaving it palm-open on top of Nik's cock.

Because it feels good, and because Nik can't control the motion of his hips, he winds up bucking ever so slightly up against Stuie's hand. And it feels so good that his body literally takes over and causes it to happen again, and again.

By the time Nik is coming, he's pretty much convinced himself that he raped Stuie in his sleep, and he's never going to be able to forgive himself for it.

The heavy pressure of Stuie's hand slips away as Stuie rolls onto his back, and Nik is left lying as quietly as he can, jizz gluing his boxer-briefs to his spent dick. He wants to get up, to sneak off to the bathroom, but he's almost more afraid to wake Stuie than to lie here and suffocate in his own mortification.

At least Stuie never woke up. And at least Stuie will probably not wake up to Nik's hardness in the morning, because he just got off.

Will Stuie even remember this come morning? It was a dream, and he certainly seemed to sleep through the whole thing, but what if he remembers his dreams? Nik realises that, even though they've been friends for what feels like forever, he doesn't know if Stuie is one of those people who can recite an entire dream when he wakes up.

And Nik does _not_ want to be around if Stuie _can_ recall this dream when he wakes up tomorrow.

Quickly, though, the feeling in his pants becomes tacky and unbearable. He very slowly pushes the blankets back, and realises as he does it that Stuie is still far too close to him and the movement of the sheets and covers exposes his bare chest.

Stuie's chest is red, flushed, and Nik gulps, feeling like an intruder in someone else's private thoughts. Like seeing Stuie like this, still clearly turned on, is somehow against the rules, and Nik wouldn't have _chosen_ to break them, but now that he has… Only the fact that his cock is itching with jizz stops him from staring.

He climbs out of the bed in increments, afraid to move too fast; he's petrified that Stuie will wake up and catch him with his soiled underwear and that would be inexplicable. Nik doesn't have a wife he's used to lying next to in order to explain a wet dream, and he definitely can't tell Stuie the truth.

And even though Stuie said he could use the master bathroom, he can't stomach the thought of Stuie waking up and finding Nik in his bathroom, trying to wash away the evidence, so he creeps down the hall anyway.

Every step is pure misery on so many levels, and Nik eases the door closed to the guest bathroom and realises, too late, that of course he doesn't have a change of clothes with him.

Well, that's not entirely true. If he wanted to go outside in the still-falling snow and dig his equipment bag out of his car, he probably has the pair of underpants he was wearing before the game. They're dirty, of course, but no worse than the ones he currently he has on.

Unfortunately he can't envision going outside at this time of night, in the snow, when he's at Stuie's condo. What would Stuie think if he woke up to _that_?

So Nik steps out of his borrowed sweatpants and carefully folds them on top of the closed toilet lid. He unsticks his underwear from his limp cock and takes a moment to glare at the offending part of his anatomy before crumpling his boxer briefs into a ball.

He opens the bathroom closet and finds a washcloth and a hand towel and cleans himself carefully, though he doesn't know how he's going to explain the used towels to Stuie tomorrow. He'd consider sneaking them home with him, but he might feel worse about stealing Stuie's towels than he already does about using them to wipe away the jizz.

Finally clean, he pulls the sweatpants back on and contemplates going back to sleep on the couch, but Stuie turned the heat down for the night and it's fucking cold. What with the snow and all, Nik wouldn't last five minutes on the couch without at least a blanket. And preferably some underwear.

He'd rather not think about the fact that getting back into bed with Stuie means he could steal some of his body heat to stay warm. Jesus.

Nik gathers up the washcloth, the towel, and his underwear and stashes them inside the shower stall. Tomorrow he'll think of some excuse to put them in a bag or something. This is awful. He's—

"Kronner?" Stuie's sleepy voice outside the bathroom door stops Nik cold. He grabs at his torso as if he can hide simply by covering his chest, but of course Stuie can't see him anyway. "Are you in there? I mean, sorry if you are, I'm not trying to… but I woke up and you weren't in bed."

"Uh," Nik tries, then clears his throat to get more words past. "Yeah. Sorry."

"You really could have used the master bathroom," Stuie remarks, still sounding barely awake. Nik feels bad, because it sounds like he worried Stuie by sneaking out of bed. What an asshole he is.

"I didn't want to wake you up," Nik bullshits helplessly. He doesn't really think Stuie's going to buy that excuse.

"You wouldn't have," Stuie replies. "Come out of there. I think we need to talk."

"No," Nik says hurriedly, panicking. "We definitely don't need to talk."

Stuie sighs. "If you're so uncomfortable about sharing a bed with another guy, all you had to do was say something. I thought… well, I just figured that because we're friends, it wouldn't be so odd, but maybe I misread the situation? Kronner? I won't think badly of you even if you thought the idea was too gay."

"It's not that… it's just…" But what can he say? Anything he tells Stuie next will be a lie. And he doesn't want to lie to his best friend—he has the oddest feeling that to start lying now would be the beginning of the end for them.

"Just come back to bed," Stuie says, when the silence drags. Nik glances down, entirely too aware that if Stuie is paying attention, it's pretty obvious Nik has no underwear on now.

He unlocks the door and eases out, but Stuie's rubbing his eyes and standing just outside, waiting for him.

"I guess, after I broke up with my girlfriend, it did feel a little too gay," Nik says, gesturing helplessly. Stuie drags his hand down over his face.

"I'll make up the couch for you," he says, but Nik is already shaking his head. He doesn't exactly want to get back into bed with Stuie, but it's the middle of the night—he doesn't want to make Stuie do all that work.

"No, you're right, we're just friends. It's not gay as long as we're not naked, right? Ha ha," Nik laughs, but it's fake even to his own ears.

"Kronner, it's not gay if you don't want it to be," Stuie says, turning and padding down the hall. Nik follows him almost reluctantly and wonders what the fuck _that_ is supposed to mean.

Nik lies awake for the rest of the night, listening to Stuie breathing, snoring a little, in the dark. When morning comes, he brings in his bag, packs up his things—including the towels—and heads home. He barely speaks to Stuie because he's too ashamed—especially in the light of the daytime—to look him in the eye.

In the weeks that follow, nothing quite like that night happens again, and Stuie never mentions the missing towels, which Nik is too embarrassed to try and return to him. They talk and laugh and drink together, but for Nik, something has really changed.

He only hopes that Stuie isn't aware of it.

 

What if there's something seriously wrong with him, that he can't lie in bed with Stuie without wanting to… to _fuck him_?


End file.
